Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning, I took my time in Gram’s new rainfall shower, trying to process Gram’s absence from the house. I remember her telling me all about it and wanting me to come home and try it. Tears began to well in my eyes again, and I climbed out of the shower and vigorously toweled off to try to wipe away the shame and grief.

The doorbell rang. Twice.

“Coming,” I said, shoving my arms through an oversized t-shirt with my long, wet hair plastered to my chest as I ran down the narrow stairs. A knock came from the back door. Maybe Dylan was bringing conciliatory coffee and donuts. She owed me at least a Boston Crème for that shitshow last night.

However, there was no mistaking the hair dancing in the fall breeze. I opened the door to a Hallmark movie poster in front of me—a gorgeous man smiling at me, wearing a flannel shirt with a colorful background of changing leaves falling from the backyard trees. And God help me, he held two coffees.

Wait…did I just call him gorgeous? Rush the Rat. Gorgeous? I closed my eyes tight and reopened them in case I was hallucinating.

“Hey. Good morning, darlin’,” he said, his eyes dropping from my face and moving further south to my legs. Why was he staring at…oh my God!

In my haste to find Dylan waiting with coffee, I forgot to put on pants. He’d caught me wearing just an old Aerosmith T-shirt, no bra…and no pants .

Great move.

He tried to gesture to my legs while holding two large coffees, and an amused smile crossed his face. It was too early for commentary on my legs resembling the cut-up chicken legs sold at the Piggly Wiggly. I slammed the door, living that nightmare of walking down the high school hallway wearing only my birthday suit and a backpack.

The glass pane was thin enough for his chuckling to intensify the humiliation.

His muffled voice instructed, “Darlin’, go put some pants on, and let's try this again. Hurry up, though, or I may drink both of these coffees.” I bolted up the stairs and grabbed the first pair of pants I could lay my hands on. Unfortunately, the flying pigs pajama pants I’d left at Grammy’s weren’t doing much to help me regain my dignity.

I paused before going back downstairs. Wait, what is it with calling me Darlin’?

Somehow, I made it down the stairs while pulling up my pants and without falling ass over teakettle, as Gram would say. I entered the kitchen to find Rush casually leaning back at Gram’s kitchen table, drinking his coffee.

“Nice pants,” he said. I loved these old pants, so I didn’t justify his dig with a response.

“Make yourself at home.” I grabbed the blessed coffee.

“Come sit,” Rush said, kicking out a chair. “We need to go over Gram’s arrangements. She left strict instructions not to let your mother have any say in her last wishes.”

He dug an envelope out from his pocket and tossed it on the table. Pulling out a slip of paper, he began to read. “These were the instructions your Gram gave me to follow at the time of her death. She wanted to be cremated, her ashes spread?—”

I held up my hand. My throat tightened, and I closed my eyes.

I didn’t want to hear about my Gram’s last wishes. Guilt punched a hole in my fragile emotional wall, and tears burned my eyes. I should’ve been here. Instead, I’d been too busy to come home. I selfishly got caught up in all the excitement of being part of a NASCAR team heading into the Cup Race—the series’ playoff season.

“Hey…” He reached for my hand.

I pulled back, wiping my eyes. “It’s just that I should’ve been here. I should be the one handling everything.”

He shrugged. “Do you want to—” He held the sheet out to me. “She coordinated most of it beforehand to ensure things were done according to her wishes. She didn’t want your mother making it a dramafest out of it. But honestly, it may be better for you to be surprised.”

“Whatever.” I waved him away. “Any ideas what she wanted done with the house?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and my eyes were drawn to the biceps he loved to display, even when he hadn’t had any. “We can talk about that next week with her lawyer. He ran his hand down the inseam of the folded paper and tilted his head. It was an expression I was never able to identify. I always associated it with the calm before the storm. He leaned forward. “Will you still be here? Can the team manage without you for that long?”

I didn’t interpret any snark in the comment and felt safe to nod. “Harper gave me time off. Mia is going to handle things until I can get back.”

“So what’s it like? Working for a major race team like Merlo?”

“Busy.” I shrugged, not feeling it was appropriate to talk about how much I love my job. “Gram said you moved back last year.”

“Yeah, after my divorce. I wanted to move back. She didn’t. Nana decided to move south with my mother and was planning on selling the house, so it made sense. I wanted to keep it in the family, and lord knows Matthew wouldn’t move back. It’s not exactly his style.”

That was the first time anyone had mentioned Matthew’s name. Did I ask about him, or was that too obvious? Or would it be obvious if I didn’t ask about him? It hadn’t crossed my mind to ask. “Oh. Well. Sorry to hear about your divorce.”

“No, you’re not. You and Dylan hated Phoebe.”

“Hey, if she made you happy, what we thought didn’t matter.”

“Yeah, well, she couldn’t make me laugh like you did.”

“You were usually laughing at me instead of with me,” I said, playing with the cup.

“Well, that’s not entirely true. Although, you were ridiculous with your puppy dog ways around Matthew. Besides, your antics were hilarious, especially when you thought no one was looking. And when I’d call you out on it, your offended expression was, well… I couldn’t help but laugh.”

“Glad my awkward teen years amused you,” I said. And that was the crux of things. I had always been the butt of Rush’s jokes. Amusing him was a talent I’d rather not have had.

“Listen, I wasn’t trying to be an ass?—”

I let out a monstrous guffaw. “You never needed to try. It was a natural talent.”

He pulled his chair in front of me, his elbows on his knees; he gently grabbed my wrist and stared at me. “I’m sorry.”

My confusion intensified. I wasn’t familiar with Rush apologizing, but…he seemed sincere. Maybe there was more to Rush than I thought.

I stared at our hands, unable to look up and let him see my vulnerability.

He whispered, “You’re still adorable,” which broke my insecurities with the shock of the compliment. “You’re all indignant, with your wet hair, flying pig pants, and—” He glanced at my chest. “—a somewhat wet t-shirt.”

The wetness from my hair had wet the fabric in two streaks down my chest. I pulled my wrist from his grasp and covered my breasts with my arms tucked under my shoulders.

He tilted my head to face him. “Still you.” He lowered his voice. “Still beautiful.”

I pulled away. “Cut the crap—you’ve never called me beautiful. Maybe “ridiculous” or “annoying” or once the “Bane of your existence.”

“You kicked me in the groin that time.”

“Damn straight. You deserved it!” I yelled. “Telling your friends I was born a boy, but my mom injured my testicles and made me a girl.”

“Yeah, well, I had to come up with something so they’d stop leering at you, and I wouldn’t have to hear all about…” He motioned at my chest. “Your voluptuous attributes.”

“Like you’d care. Unless it was grossing you out.”

“It was pissing me off because I didn’t like anyone leering at you.”

“So I didn’t have a date to prom because you told the guys at school I was a boy?”

He tilted his head in that maddening way, with a smile peeking out his lips.

“Don’t give me that look. You can’t charm me like those other girls who fell for you.”

“No, I could never charm you—” he said.

“You never even tried.”

“If I thought it might work, I would’ve.” He pulled back. “But you had your eyes set on Matthew.”

Why was my heart doing that?

I was out of practice identifying his expressions; I didn’t know what he was thinking as he stared at me. But he stroked the top of my hand with his thumb, and the sensation affected my resolve not to like him. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing.

“You know you’re more beautiful to me like this than in that costume you wore last night.”

“It was Dylan?—”

“Yes, that was Dylan dressing you up to be more like her.” He held my hand in both of his. “But Darlin’, you’re not Dylan.”

I jerked my hand out of his and stepped back. All the warm and spicy thoughts I was having were suddenly replaced with that awkward reminder. “Really? Oh, thanks for pointing that out to me.”

He stood over me. “You never had to dress up to get my attention. You’re at your most beautiful when you’re standing in front of me with wet hair, ridiculous pants, no make-up, and a t-shirt wet in all the most convenient places.”

I held back from covering myself, defiant and frustrated with how much I wanted to hear more.

What the hell was wrong with me? Hesitantly, I said, “This isn’t funny?—"

He stood, pulling me up with him, cupping my face with his hands, and drawing me further into his orbit. “I’m not laughing now, am I?”

“What are you doing?” Panic gripped me, and I reached out to cling to his wrists. My world was spinning. He’d never done this before.

“What I should’ve done back in high school.” He lowered his head and softly kissed me before pulling back, his lips parted, scanning my face with an uncertainty I’d never seen before. And Lord, help me; I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Rush Sullivan’s lips, for heaven’s sake. I just needed…to do that again. I needed more. And as God was my witness, I grabbed him by his shirt and kissed the hell out of him.

His groan as he wrapped his arms around me, one hand tangling up with my still-wet hair, weakened my knees as my world fell from under me.

He tilted my head, moving us in a flirtation of a kiss that deepened when he traced my lips with his tongue. This wasn’t Rush, who refused to let me play football with the neighborhood kids or made fun of my bikini during our senior trip. This was Rush—the man with the magical mouth.

It could only be some type of voodoo that made me forget how much I disliked him.

For that moment, he had complete control over me…even the air I breathed. I knew the kiss was a mistake, but spontaneity—and honestly, some curiosity—gave way to addiction.

I caressed his shoulders and back, wishing to explore his new adult physique. I threaded my hand into his hair and even gave it a little tug, pulling a smile from him.

Plus, he was making the most delicious noises. He grabbed my thighs and lifted me to straddle him. I cried out both in shock at him lifting me and how my body was responding to the alpha-like move. Rush turned to place me on the counter, his hands not letting go of my ass but pulling me closer to him.

Our hands roamed as our mouths danced, and the sensation of having his hands skim the sides of my breasts left me gasping.

He broke away, breathing heavily, his forehead tilted to mine.

“This wasn’t exactly how I wanted to go about this,” he breathed.

It was my turn to pull back. “What is this?”

“This is me taking a chance. I’ve wanted to kiss you since you pushed me out of your garage, not wanting to hear my opinion about the Mustang.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t need your help, and I certainly didn’t want any opinion of yours.”

“Well, at the time, I told myself that I wanted to kiss you so you would stop yelling at me,” he said. The side of his mouth tilted up, his eyes glinting in the morning light coming through the kitchen window.

“So this was to satisfy your twisted curiosity—or a way to mess with my head?” I tried to push him away so I could breathe my own air.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. “Darlin’, I’ve been curious about a lot of things, and I’m not nearly satisfied with touching you—yet.”

“Rupert Sylvester Sullivan!” I rubbed my hands over my face and pushed against his defined chest until I gained enough space to jump off the counter. “You’re making my head spin. You did nothing but torment me for years, and now you're kissing me like…like…”

He tried to step closer, his hands in his pockets and the cockiest grin on his mouth. “Like what? Like you needed to be kissed?”

“My God, you’re full of yourself. Not every girl wants to be with you, Rush.”

“Yeah, but the one I wanted was too busy chasing my cousin to notice.”

What the hell was going on?

“You’re being ridiculous—” I said.

He interrupted me. “Why do you think I took automotive shop in high school? Or why would I hang around Nana’s so often?”

I just stared at him because the words he was using could’ve been in Gaelic. I didn’t understand any of them.

He tapped me on the nose like a favorite pet. I swiped at his hand. “Because of you. Because I knew you liked to work on cars, and if I took shop, I could spend time with you.”

I tilted my head, trying to dial into what he said. “But you didn’t like me. You used to embarrass me all the time.” I pushed to get around him. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. For Christ’s sake, I’m burying my grandmother today.” I flung out my hand in exasperation. “That’s why I’m here. It’s why you’re here.’

The pair of worry lines between his eyebrows appeared as his smile disappeared.

“It’s not nonsense.” He shoved his hands in his pants, the beginning of the scowl I was familiar with reemerging.

Not wanting to debate the sensibility of groping each other, I said, “I need to get dressed. You know how to show yourself out.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, “Be ready by 1:00.”

My foot hovered by the stairway leading to my escape. “Why?”

“Because I’m picking you up.”

“You’re delusional if you think I’m going out with you.”

He turned to leave. “Don’t be so full of yourself. I’m taking you to your grandmother’s memorial service,” he called out while opening the back door. Bossy and condescending.

Now, that was the Rush I remembered.